


these are what they call hard feelings

by prettylittlesestras



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Bechloe Week 2018, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlesestras/pseuds/prettylittlesestras
Summary: this is for bechloe week 2018 day 3: drunk texting





	these are what they call hard feelings

“Ouch!” Beca yells as she’s jolted awake from a dead sleep by a magazine flying from across the room and landing on her face. She removes it and sits it down slowly on her nightstand without even opening her eyes, fighting the urge to launch it back where it came from. She rolls over and opens her eyes to see Amy frantically searching for something she must’ve lost in their mess of a room, tossing things from one side of the room to the other, and leaving a path of clothes, schoolwork, and empty Chinese takeout boxes all over the room like the aftermath of some sort of bedroom tornado. 

“What the hell, Amy?” Beca is (justifiably) annoyed about being woken up by a flying book at ‘much-too-early o’clock’ on a Saturday morning. “What did you even lose, and do you really think throwing all of this crap from one place to another is going to help you find it?”

“I signed up to retake my stupid history midterm today, and I can’t find my notebook to take with me. I don’t know why they expect an Australian to learn American history, anyway. It’s ridiculous, really,” Amy mutters without looking up or stopping on her path of destruction. 

Beca walks over to Amy’s desk and slides a heap of clothes off to the side to reveal the slender red notebook that had been ever-so-slightly poking out from the side of the pile. She throws it at Amy and hits her square on the back of the head, but the other girl doesn’t seem to mind. She runs the few steps over to Beca and squeezes her so hard that Beca’s seriously afraid her eyes might pop out of their sockets. 

“Thanks, Mitchell, you’re a life saver,” Amy all but yells as she runs from the room and bounds down the stairs and out the door. Beca feels her stomach growl, so instead of trying to comprehend all that just happened in the first three and a half minutes of being awake, she heads downstairs to grab some breakfast. As she descends the staircase, she hears the other girls’ loud chatter in the kitchen, and she knows she’s in for a heck of a day if they’re this rowdy before 9am. She takes a deep breathe and blows it out slowly, readying herself for the copious amounts of human interaction she’s about to have to deal with.

As she enters the kitchen, she’s greeted with the sight of Chloe flipping pancakes on the griddle, Stacie taking a tray of bacon out of the oven, and Emily scrambling a pan of eggs over the stove. She’s surprised to see just the three other girls in the house considering the volume of the discussion she heard from the top of the stairs. 

She sits down at the counter in her usual spot and notices the steaming mug (her favorite mug) full of coffee in front of her. She takes a long sip from the cup, careful not to burn herself, but eager to get the coffee into her system. Even after only one sip, she can feel the warm, caffeine-filled drink traveling through her body. Beca always compares the first sip of coffee in the morning to someone injecting liquid sunshine into her veins; it’s makes everything a little hotter, a little brighter, and just better in general. 

She knows Chloe must’ve heard her coming down the stairs and filled her cup before her feet even touched the kitchen tiles, and for that she is eternally grateful. She’s also grateful for the fact that the girls are busy tending to the breakfast, unable to make conversation with Beca before she’s fully awake. Beca looks up to thank Chloe, but Chloe’s knowing eyes are already staring back at her. Their eye contact breaks when Chloe’s phone starts ringing in the living room. As she’s darting into the other room, she yells back, “don’t let my pancakes burn, Becs!”

Beca vacates her seat at the bar to stand behind the griddle. She’s never been much of a chef, but she doesn’t think preventing a pancake from burning should be all too difficult. As usual, she was wrong. When she starts to smell an acrid, burning smell emanating from the griddle, she flips the pancakes to find them burnt to a crisp. She decides to chuck them into the trashcan and ladle on some fresh batter before Chloe can notice. 

Chloe returns and with her come those knowing eyes, not believing Beca’s tricks even for a moment. “Look, Becs. All you have to do is wait until you see those little bubbles in the batter,” she instructs as she steps up behind Beca and places her hand around the hand that Beca is using to grasp the spatula and guides the spatula under the pancake, tossing it into the air and letting it fall back onto the griddle, “and then flip.”

She releases Beca’s hand and walks away with a smug look on her face but not before giving her a firm, playful smack on her butt, blushing Beca’s cheeks instantly. She has to take a few deep breaths to calm herself but for a different reason than this morning. This time it’s because of some weird feeling that seems to have risen up into the pit of her stomach. Had she had the guts to call it what she knew it was, she would have called it a butterfly, but for now, it seems more like some kind of annoying little moth. At least that’s what she tells herself as she breathes deeply, in and out, trying to make whatever its go away.

* * *

After breakfast, Beca heads up to her room to work on a new mix for the Bellas. The only way she ever learned how to cope with the things she was struggling with growing up was to throw on a pair of headphones and drown out the world, and it seemed to work before, so why start trying something different now? She falls into her desk chair with a thud, begging for something to take her mind off of Chloe. She starts the music and lets her brain drift into auto-pilot, her fingers so familiar with the keys that she could mix in her sleep. 

There’s always been something about Chloe. Something different. Beca’s always explained it away as her having a strong admiration for her best friend. She’s kind and strong and empathetic and beautiful and has the voice of an angel, but whatever. Anyone could see those things, and it would be dumb, stupid even, to not take note of them and admire them. 

Sure, maybe she things did end with Jesse because she would rather hang out with Chloe than him, but that has more to do with what she realized were her lack of feelings for Jesse, not any sort of feelings for Chloe. And sure, maybe Chloe does flirt with her sometimes, and maybe it does give her the same sort of feeling she used to get in the beginning with Jesse. The same feeling she felt this morning. But Chloe could flirt with a rock wall and make it blush, and, after all, it still doesn’t mean anything. 

When her mind snaps back into reality, she listens to what she’s mixed so far and deletes it without hesitation, the confused and panicked state of her brain not lending itself to free-flowing creativity. She decides to take a midday nap, sleep being the only truly effective way to turn her brain off. She climbs into bed and drifts off to sleep rather quickly, for the first time relieved that Amy woke her up unnecessarily early.

* * *

For the second time in one day, Beca is jolted from her sleep, awoken by another unidentified flying object hitting her in the face. It doesn’t take long to identify what the object is, one of Beca’s favorite shirts. But it isn’t Amy who woke her up this time, it’s Chloe. 

“Wake up, sleepy head. I can’t host a party full of a capella nerds without my co-captain.” Chloe rummages through Beca’s closet until she finds a pair of black leather pants, rips them from their hanger, and throws those at her as well. Only when Beca starts to protest the flying clothes does she get a good look at Chloe. She’s wearing a blue flowing blouse and a tight black skirt. Whatever words were on their way out of Beca’s mouth fall to the floor (along with her jaw). She thinks she may have never seen someone so beautiful in her life. Actually, she feels her brain headed in that direction, so she stands, grabs her clothes, mumbles something incomprehensible, and heads to the bathroom, hoping her thoughts will vanish if she’s not looking at Chloe. They don’t. But she does compose herself enough to go back into her room, grab her shoes, and arrive downstairs just in time to see the first of the Trebles arriving. 

The party goes on like a typical college party (with slightly more singing), and Beca is feeling a strong buzz when someone suggests playing truth or dare. Not being the kind of person who enjoys revealing personal details about herself to others, Beca would usually forego the game, but tonight she decides to participate. The Bellas and the Trebles gather around in a circle, some people on the couches and chairs, and others taking a seat on the floor. Most of the dares are pretty harmless. Someone dares Jessica to shotgun a beer, and she does so (surprisingly) with ease. Jesse dares Amy to drunk dial Bumper, and laughter takes over the room when she calls his cell phone and his mom answers. Things don’t take a turn for the serious until it’s Stacie’s turn. 

“Okay, Becs, truth or dare?” Stacie asks with a sneaky smile. 

Still not wanting to reveal any major truth about herself, Beca chooses ‘dare’.

“Okay. I dare you to kiss Chloe.” Stacie looks proud of herself for her dare, and Beca sets a mental reminder to punish her for this later. When Beca turns to Chloe who’s been sitting beside her the entire time, she raises her eyebrows and shrugs as if to say ‘I’m cool with this if you are.’

Beca leans in to kiss Chloe, and if it had been anyone else, it would have been a peck on the lips that she laughed about and never thought about again. But not this time. Their lips couldn’t have been in contact for more than one second, but sparks shoot through Beca’s lips like a shock of electricity. She can feel her cheeks turn red, and she’s embarrassed. She's embarrassed because everyone else in the house is staring at her and Chloe, hooping and hollering. She’s also embarrassed that that little kiss felt like no other kiss she’d ever experienced. Like electricity. Like pure energy. Like she wanted to do it again. 

The game dies out after a few more rounds, and Beca is grateful for an escape. She heads to the kitchen and takes a shot of whiskey and then heads upstairs to her room with a beer. She opens her window and sits in the window sill to drink her beer, hoping that the cool air would help her cool off and the beer would help her forget. Neither is working, and with the shot of whiskey having pushed her further into tipsiness, Beca shuffles to her bed to sit down. She grabs her phone when she feels it buzz in her pocket. 

Beale (12:33am): Where’d you run off to? I haven’t seen you in a while

Beca thinks about not responding, but the whiskey has other thoughts. 

Beca (12:34am): jsut needed to cool off and get a break from the party. ill be down in a few 

Beca hopes Chloe will forget about her and enjoy the party. She knows she can’t be around her right now. Not after one too many drinks. Not after that kiss. She won’t let herself do something stupid. Not after all this time of being careful to hide her feelings. 

Beca chugs the rest of her beer and lies back onto her bed. She fishes her phone back out of her pocket and stares at the screen, her fingers moving without the consent of her brain. 

Beca (12:41am): its liek even when im drunk i cant stop thinking about you

Beca has flashes of clarity, and she tells herself to stop, wills her fingers to halt, but ‘Drunk Beca’ takes over and sends the text anyway. Chloe responds surprisingly fast. 

Beale (12:41am): I can't stop thinking about the kiss 

‘Drunk Beca’ has a mind of her own, and no matter how hard and for how long Beca has tried to keep her feelings at bay, nothing seems to matter in this moment. The alcohol gives her enough confidence to send the riskiest text she’s ever sent, one that could reshape her relationship with her best friend in one of two ways: the way that Beca might actually possibly have wanted it to be all this time, the way that would fulfill those little thoughts and fantasies that she’s never let herself admit that she’s had about Chloe since that day at the activities fair, or the way that ends their friendship. The way that turns everything she’s ever had with her best friend upside down and sends their friendship to a screeching halt. But she doesn’t have the clarity to weigh the options, typing the text and sending it without hesitation. 

Beca (12:42am): what if I found you and kissed ypu for real this time?

Beca gets up from her bed and heads toward her door, not waiting for Chloe’s response. She’s not drunk enough to not be scared of things going south after Chloe sees the text, so her first instinct is to flee the scene, but her brain stops when she opens the door. 

As she flings the door open, she sees Chloe standing on the other side. Chloe rushes into the room, pushing the door closed with her foot as she grabs both sides of Beca’s face with her hands, their lips being drawn together like magnets. Their lips touch, and the electricity is back, shooting through Beca like lightning in a thunderstorm, starting at her lips and streaking its way through her body to the tips of her toes. They fall back onto the bed, their lips never losing contact. When they both need a break, their chests heaving from lack of oxygen, they lay there together. Not talking, not needing an explanation just yet. Just happy. They both drift off to sleep accidentally, and when Beca wakes up the next morning, she’s not scared. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels lighter. Free. She looks over and sees Chloe still sleeping beside her and thinks maybe, just maybe, she could get used to this.


End file.
